


There's No Sun

by Marasa



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Catholicism, Columbus - Freeform, Cults, Dark, Demon, Demons, Disturbing, Evil, Haemolacria, Horror, M/M, Ohio, Religion, Rituals, Sacrifice, Smut, Snow, Surreal, Weird, blowjob, hometown, mysterious happenings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:18:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Lay face down on the floor at 4:30.Bleed down the garbage disposal.Feed it and obey.But don't look at it. Never look at it.Tyler knows it wasn't always like this.





	There's No Sun

Blood seeps from Tyler’s lips where he lays prostrate in the snow. 

Each exhale of breath through his nose drills through the ice so he can see the mud underneath. It’s always so cold.

“Time?” Tyler calls to his left.

Tyler’s face down at least two inches in the snow. His words are muffled but he knows Josh hears him. Tyler barely peeks at where the boy’s phone sits on the snow beside his head. He can barely see Josh manage to stretch his hand from his hip to the button on the front. 

4:34.

“Two more minutes,” Josh says, blowing snow from in front of his lips before returning face down.

“Goddamn,” Tyler mutters. Two minutes seem unbearable. His lips are already split from the ice.

“Think my nose is bleeding,” Josh says with a wet sniff. 

“My lips are,” Tyler says.

There’s a nudge at his left and Tyler peeks from his the ditch his face has formed to see Josh’s hand extended toward him, a narrow stick between his fingers. He snatches it hurriedly and pulls it to his lips, biting off the cap and slathering his aching lips with artificial strawberry flavored salve. 

There’s a rumbling in the air that vibrates the snow like a bed of bean bag pills. Tyler pushes his face further in the snow, a hole of white acting as his shield from whatever is making that horrific sound somewhere out in the woods in front of them. Tyler knows they should have hurried their asses and been home but here there are, the force of the reverberating growl pushing them further into the ground while their spines bend under the pressure of the noise.

“Time?” Tyler yells into the ground.

“Less than one minute!” Josh yells over the noise. And this is where it always gets the worst. 

It’s the climax of whatever is creating this racket. This is the time where the pressure between their shoulder blades increases and their noses are forced against the mud buried under four inches of ice. This is where Tyler turns his head to sneak a peek.

It’s taboo, such an action but curiosity is such a dangerous thing. All he needs is a quick glance upward to see the reason he’s been getting on his front every day for the past fifteen years. He just needs the smallest glance at the unseen entity that has made life so strange.

There’s a rumbling that shakes the air and Tyler does it. He turns his face to his left. There’s a pressure in the air that sits on the back of his ribs, smooshing his lungs that are on fire with the freezing temperature as he forces his head up to look forward.

Tyler sees it.

It’s dark. It’s the darkest thing he’s ever seen and it’s such a jarring image, he can’t decipher it at first. All he can make out is the deepest shadow he’s ever seen that it cloaks itself with, how it’s spiked with hair that are foot long quills, limbs longer than it’s body to an extreme, claws longer than steak knives.

As Tyler’s eyes drag upwards to its face, his whole vision goes black. Suddenly paralyzed with shock, he falls back into his cold hole, back into the position that all the town is in because this is what they’ve been learned to do after meaningless deaths.

Just a few minutes after four o’clock, they are required to go prostrate in respect or worship or something. Tyler doesn’t know. He hates that he doesn’t know. He’s done blindly following these meaningless rituals and that’s why he looked up.

Tyler can’t see anything right now but he doesn’t regret it. He’s still breathing hard. The last thing he remembers seeing is the frozen breaths of air from its mangled snout and red, red, it’s eyes were red.

A minute must have passed because it’s over. No more pressure, no more roars. It’s quiet again and the entity that the entire town admirably fears is gone.

Tyler knows life wasn’t always like this; he was young but he knows, he can remember. Why is life like this? No one asks questions ever. Tyler now realizes how many he has.

“You’re bleeding,” Josh says as he pushes himself up from the ground in a wet upward dog motion and looks over to the blood streaming down his face from his tear ducts. 

It looks like that thing has just performed a failed lobotomy on him. There is no white around him, just a blast of crimson fire burning through ice.

“What did you do, Tyler?” the boy who knows the clock says. He’s never seen anything like it. No one has. “What did you do?”

Tyler looks up past the hill of snow created by his head, blinking the snow from his eyelashes to look forward. The entity is gone. Maybe it fell through the Earth below them or dissipated in the sky.

Tyler would have killed to see it leave.

***** ***** *****

Tyler fixes the bandage over his eye. 

The sticky end of the tape pulls at the hair of his right eyebrow. The gauze stuffed in his pocket sit bulky on the side of his leg. Replacements. He knows in two hours, the gauze will be dirtied and at the center of the stark white bandage will be a pinpoint of red. 

Tyler’s right eye won’t stop bleeding. It’s been constant for an entire day, an irritated itch, a soreness rooted deep in his brain. 

The thoughts about that thing in the woods haven’t ended either. It’s all a haze. Tyler finds himself staring at the wall, trying to gather whatever he can remember about that thing that has trickled into every waking moment and his dreams.

That thing that is power, that is spider limbs and dagger claws, calls itself ‘Blurry’ in the depths of his dreams. Tyler doesn’t remember what the dream is about but all he can remember is the name, the shade of darkness. It is a pit of shadow, no beginning or end.

Tyler doesn’t know what it is but he knows it is great. It’s like seeing the curvature of the Earth or seeing the planet from space- it’s enlightenment. 

Tyler locks the door of the upstairs bathroom, Josh beside him. He’s leaning against the wall, biting his lip in that good boy way he does, all nervous and unsure of himself. 

“It looks bad, Tyler,” Josh says. There’s a quiet thump outside the door and Josh jumps, looking at the door.

Josh shouldn’t come over. He always gets so nervous around his parents and Tyler thinks rightfully so. Somebody’s always watching, someone is always saying fucked up shit, someone is always swearing and spitting at him for whatever reason. One time they find a dead mouse in one of Josh’s sneakers by the front door. After that, Josh keeps his shoes on.

“Next time we’ll hang out at yours,” Tyler says as he looks in the mirror, fingers ghosting over the wet spot of his gauze.

In Josh’s silence, Tyler can feel his thankfulness.

Staring into the mirror, Tyler leans close and peels the tape from the perimeter of the gauze. A slight sting as a few eyebrow hairs are stuck to the adhesive. The tape breaks free of his skin and Tyler inhales, steadying his slightly shaking fingers. He doesn’t know what to expect but he knows it’ll be bad by how ruined and wet the gauze is. It’s crusted red, brown, just a little black at the center.

Slowly, Tyler takes the edges of the bandage and peels it off.

The white of his right eye is washed out in black. It’s a stain that’s darker on the veins that stretch just under the surface of his eye. He looks a little closer and can see that his iris is lighter, just a little more on the red side.

His vision is different. He’s changed.

Tyler blinks a few bloody tears from his waterline, crimson and thick.

“Tyler,” Josh says, eyes wide, “what did you do?”

What did he do? He simply opened his eyes to the truth. He saw what they fear, what they worship. He saw. That’s all he did. 

Tyler wipes the blood from his eye and wipes it on his shirt before taking a few pieces of gauze from his pocket and securing them over his eye with a strip of translucent tape. Ten seconds Tyler looks in the mirror and blood is already pushing through the fabric.

“What did you do?” Josh asks. He sounds hesitant, like he doesn’t want to know.

“I looked, Josh,” Tyler says. “I saw it.”

Three wads of gauze in his left pocket, Tyler hands Josh five to keep in his own pocket for him. Back up.

*** * ***

“What happened to your eye, son?”

Tyler’s father gives him a glance from the head of the dining room table as his son pours him a soda. Tyler is focused on the fizz but he feels the inquisitive, expectant gaze of a parent that has an idea of what has happened, never mind the fact that no one has ever seen this.

“I got in a fight.” 

Tyler places the hissing glass in the top left-hand corner of his father’s placemat.

“With who?” his father asks. “Do I need to worry about you, Tyler?”

Tyler exhales through his nose.

“No,” Tyler says. “I was just messing around with Josh. Hit me too hard.”

A growl from his father makes him close his eyes for a second.

“That boy,” Tyler’s father shakes his head with a heavy exhale. “I really wish you would stop hanging around him, Tyler. I could always tell he was bad, and here he is, punching you in the eye-”

“He didn’t punch me,” Tyler mutters. It goes unheard by his ranting father.

“-I’ll be honest, and I know you don’t want to hear this,” his father says, “but when I heard that that someone’s spine had been found hanging outside of the grocery store, I thought for sure it had been Josh. And I’m a little disappointed it wasn’t.”

It wasn’t Josh outside the grocery store but some other twenty-one-year-old that was just as negligent to his obligatory duties of living here. At least Josh lays prostrate during the designated worship time. Maybe his submission during worship had been what had saved him from all the times he forgot to paint the easternmost wall of his home with blue paint on the third Wednesday of odd numbered months or when he forgot to stuff raw meat down the garbage disposal. 

Josh was lazy. Selfish. Lucky. Very lucky.

“Yes, Dad,” Tyler sighs, “I know you hate Josh.”

Tyler’s father grumbles, gnashes his teeth together, bashes his hand down onto the table over and over again like he’s trying to go through it with his fist. Tyler simply stands by and watches as the liquid in his father’s glass sloshes side to side with the hard movement.

“Honey,” Tyler’s mother chides from the kitchen where she’s stuffing a chicken leg down the sink because she has to if she doesn’t want her spine to be found somewhere around town.

It wasn’t always like this.

Everyone’s forgotten that it wasn’t always like this.

Tyler’s mother brings the rest of the rotisserie chicken to the dining room and sets it in the center of them. Tyler takes his seat as does his mother, Mr. Joseph stopping his bashing of the table so he can cut off a piece of chicken for himself. The heel of his hand is red, his face is too.

“Why do you hate Josh so much?” Tyler asks and Tyler’s dad is getting worked up again.

“No Josh talk at the table,” his mother says tiredly. “Act like you don’t know Josh for the next thirty minutes.”

Tyler picks at his chicken with a fork, never really committing to putting any piece in his mouth. He drowns out meaningless conversation of how work has been and how so-and-so’s client was found with their head shaved into as thin of pieces as cheese on the floor of the garage and how they can’t remember the last time the sun rose.

“More sacrifices,” his father says, “so we can see the sun again. I say we do Josh!”

Both his mother and father laugh but Tyler doesn’t say anything because he’s not supposed to know who Josh is for thirty minutes.

“Has anyone ever seen it?” Tyler says. He doesn’t even have to elaborate because they know.

Tyler might not know Josh right now but he knows Blurry, that name, what is that name? It’s all he thinks about. He draws it in spirals and writes poems about it. It haunts him and he can’t get it out of his head.

His parents stare at him and they look ready to say but they don’t speak a word about anything. Tyler is left picking at a frayed thread of his placemat as he awaits an answer or a change in conversation, anything. 

“Don’t ask questions like that,” his mother says, twin braids held into an X between her shoulder blades by two sharp pins that snag her shirt and loosen the threads there. A silver coin rests in the center of the X, a medallion of worship and protection. Tyler doesn’t even know what they worship or what gives them protection or what they need protection from.

It wasn’t always like this.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Tyler says.

His father looks ready to bash the table again.

“Tyler,” his mother warns, “eat your dinner before the lights go out.” She stuffs a piece of wet chicken into her mouth, chewing hard. “And it’s your turn to bleed in the sink. I already left out your knife.”

Tyler doesn’t eat much. He twirls his fork in chicken that is more fat than meat and wades through meaningless conversation that consists of gorey stories of people they knew that have died in the past week, all interspersed with comments from his dad about how he wishes it were Josh, Josh should be next, Josh hurt my son so I’m going to scoop his eyes out.

Tyler sighs and cleans up the plates when they’re done.

Standing by the sink, Tyler is again acquainted with his very own knife, gifted to him at age seven. It sits to the right of the sink in a thin, wooden box branded with his name on the front. Every other Friday, blood stains porcelain and disappears down the drain. With all the excitement and distraction of the past day or two, Tyler must have forgotten his obligation, his small sacrifice. 

The handle of the knife is black stone, shiny obsidian cut smooth. It feels cool against his right palm. The blade feels colder against his left one.

From under his pinkie finger to the ball under his thumb, from under his index finger to the heel of his hand, the X on his palm bleeds freely. When Tyler squeezes his fist, the blood drips faster like he’s squeezing ripe fruit. 

Down the pipes goes the blood to the mouth of something that is very hungry. Tyler can feel the vibrations of its breathing not even thirty seconds into his obligatory duty. Tyler feeds something he can’t see but he calls upon the fuzzy memory of it and it makes the rumbling of the pipes all the more powerful. It’s something with wire hair and a huge jaw, red eyes and splintered bone. 

Tyler squeezes his fist harder right over the drain.

He saw it. He can’t get the image out of his mind.

The pipes shutter.

*** * ***

Moonlight through the ports of stain glass drench altar in sapphire blue and ruby red, all the riches God put here on the Earth in one place. It’s a pirate’s cove of holy treasure. This is somewhere the Ark of the Covenant would be hidden away. It’s glorious and gold but the altar is dilapidated and the tiles of the floor are cracked under a heavy film of dust and chunks of rubble from the ceiling.

No one comes here anymore.

No one but Mark.

He’s forgotten, left here like a piece of furniture in this abandoned building. He’s all alone without his other brothers. They were found hanging from the top of the grocery store after stepping one foot out of the church. 

Mark had a degree in mathematics before joining the order.

He was smart enough to know not to leave.

The monk sits in a pew on the center right of the church, clad in torn robes dusted with dirt, hands in his lap, looking forward. Tyler thinks Mark is so into his silent trance of prayer that he doesn’t notice him as he slides into the pew next to him.

“Tyler,” Mark says a second later.

Tyler guesses Mark is still as vigilant as ever.

“Brother,” Tyler says.

Mark stares forward to the forgotten traditions and faith all of these people used to have. Now they’re strange and different, all memories of a time before all these rituals erased from their minds.

“It’s been years since you’ve been here,” Mark says. “I wonder why you’re here now.”

“Just want to talk.” Tyler knows Mark has no one to talk to. He doesn’t expect the monk to be tight-lipped.

Mark hums. Tyler expected nothing else.

“What happened here?” Tyler asks. “It’s a secret what happened here.”

Everything is trashed. Everything is in ruins. It wasn’t always like this. 

Tyler remembers going to Sunday school and sitting in mass and playing with the other kids on the playground just outside of the church. Now the playground’s a heap of plastic buried under weeds and everyone acts like they don’t know who God is.

The sun doesn’t shine here anymore.

It’s always night.

“It’s not really a secret,” Brother Mark says with a curl of his lip and a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s just that no one thinks to ask questions.”

“What is there for them to question?” Tyler says. “This has become normality.”

“True, this has been your normal for your entire life,” Brother Mark says, “yet, you’re here. Asking questions.”

Tyler turns to the monk. The monk turns to him. 

“You remember when things were different?” Mark says.

Tyler breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth as he stares. Yes, yes, he remembers.

Slowly, Tyler leans in closer, inch by inch so he can speak in a hushed voice just into the monk’s ear. Tyler licks his lips, leans centimeters closer and whispers the reason of his sudden curiosity. The words fall off the tips of his teeth in a warm breath centimeters away from stubbled skin. It’s close and quiet enough that not even God can hear them. 

“I saw it.”

Brother Mark straightens up. He looks down at the boy with an expression void of any emotion. 

Here in the pews, his face is out of the moonlight.

“No you didn’t,” Brother Mark says. 

He has that authority in his voice that comes with extensive study in the Church- stoic, serious, grave. He’s read all about the murder of Christ and the sins of the world and how it will all end in fire; forever will his voice be tainted with sorrow. It’s the voice of a leader, someone to be listened to. Tyler knows that Brother Mark is not suggesting to him that maybe he was wrong. 

Brother Mark is ordering him to believe that he did not see that thing.

Brother Mark’s orders are in vain as Tyler removes the bandage over his right eye. The monk leans back an inch away on the pew at the sight revealed, his robes sliding across glossy wood. He’s breathing hard through his parted lips, eyes wide. He’s never seen anything like it, Tyler knows. No one has. When he saw it himself, he too wore a similar expression.

Brother Mark recovers quickly and returns to his spot one inch closer to the boy so he can inspect the black organ. The white of Tyler’s eye is dyed a deep black that creates the illusion of emptiness. His right iris is a floating misshapen ring, frayed at the outer edges. It’s blurred like television static.

“You saw it,” Brother Mark whispers.

Tyler nods. Mark’s gaze shifts from his tear duct down his cheek as a thin stream of blood escapes. Tyler doesn’t stop bleeding.

“It didn’t happen here,” Mark says, eyes still focused on the stream of blood slowly making its way down the side of Tyler’s nose. He’s giving it all up to Tyler now that he’s seeing what may be a miracle. “Not in this Church. It isn’t allowed here.”

That’s why Mark stays here, that’s why Tyler should probably stay here too.

Blood trickles under Tyler’s nostril.

“It was the older ones. Your parents. Other parents and grandparents- the adults. Recklessness, loss of morality. It was all going to shit anyway,” Brother Mark says. “They all wanted something. They went about it the wrong way.” The blood reaches the right corner of Tyler’s mouth. “They did it. In the basement.”

“Basement?” Tyler says.

“At the back of the grocery store,” Mark says. “They didn’t know what they were doing. They shouldn’t have been messing with that stuff; now the sun doesn’t even shine.” 

Brother Mark sighs.

“It got out of hand. Fast.” Brother Mark swallows as the blood drips past Tyler’s lips. “It’s been out of hand for fifteen years.”

“Will I find it there?”

Blood reaches Tyler’s chin. It’s itchy where it gathers and with his breathing alone, Tyler can feel how heavy the bead is at it wavers with his involuntary movement. Tyler’s desperate for the answer, his desire to see it again invading his mind every second of the day.

“Yes,” Brother Mark says. “You will find it there.”

Blurry- it feels like it’s a part of him. Tyler didn’t even know he wasn’t whole without it but now he needs it to be a whole person. Blurry is him.

“Don’t go there, Tyler,” Marks says. “Stay here. It can’t come in here. Stay.”

Mark grabs his hand, his silence pleading.

Blood drips off Tyler’s chin to silk robes. 

*** * ***

“I’m going to do it.”

Tyler is over at Josh’s because Josh can’t be over at Tyler’s.

Mr. Joseph gets weird around Josh, always growls and murmurs around the corners things that sound like ‘die’ and ‘get out of my house.’ They usually just watch Mr. Joseph stand a fraction in the doorway, swearing to himself as he stares at the mohawked kid for hours on end until Josh leaves.

Tyler doesn’t know how his dad could hate someone so gentle and kind.

“What are you going to do, Tyler?” Josh scribbles in a sketchbook, strands of lead lines tangled together in a mess, just keeping his hand busy.

“I’m going to go see it.”

Josh’s pencil stops. He knows what Tyler is talking about. Everyone inherently knows.

“No you’re not,” Josh says, and there goes someone else, trying to force him out of it, but Tyler has already made up his mind. Josh is staring at Tyler’s right eye, visible now that he’s taken off his gauze after saying something about how he didn’t like not seeing.

“Yes I am,” Tyler says.

“You can’t,” Josh pleads, “you don’t know what it is or where it is or, or, or-” Josh releases a shuddered breath. “Why, Tyler, why?”

“I’m going,” is all Tyler says.

Josh chews his bottom lip, looks to his right, clutches the pencil in his right hand until Tyler’s sure it’ll break.

“If you go,” Josh says, “I’ll go too.”

Tyler’s the one hesitant now. This isn’t what he was expecting. Tyler doesn’t really know what he was expecting.

“Your eyes will bleed,” Tyler says.

“That’s fine.”

“It’ll be a lot.”

“Okay.”

“Josh.”

“Yeah?”

Tyler bites his nail. He was kind of expecting death when he went to go see this thing that haunts their hometown but he doesn’t want that for Josh. He never meant for Josh to die or be endangered in anyway but Josh was his best friend and Tyler was stupid to think he’d be going alone.

“Can I suck your dick?” Tyler says because if this is the end for them, then so be it. Tyler wants to feel before he feels nothing.

The carpet chafes Tyler’s stomach where his shirt rides up as he bobs his head. His mouth is stuffed with Josh’s cock, thick and heavy on his tongue, one of the best damn things he’s ever tasted. His jaw aches and Josh is above him leaning against the side of the bed, eyes lidded and mouth open. Tyler’s eyes water with the beauty and filth of it all.

Tears spill over, tear tracks sticky on the apples of his cheeks. It feels like syrup dripping down his face and Josh moans as he stares down at him, hand on the side of Tyler’s head as he swipes his thumb over the track of moisture.

  
When Josh brings his finger back, Tyler sees it is completely red.

Tyler continues crying blood from his right eye as Josh thrusts up into his mouth, whimpering desperate things that sound like he’s about to cum. Tyler sucks harder and harder until his mouth is an air tight vacuum. Josh nearly screams at the pain but forces his dick deeper into Tyler’s head, the weeping tip of his cock passing his uvula as if he’s trying to get to dig out Tyler’s Adam’s apple.

Tyler ruts against the carpet as Josh takes his head in his hands and forces him down uncomfortably so. Tyler can tell just how repressed Josh is by the way he groans as he jackhammers his cock down Tyler’s throat like he’s nothing more but a warm, wet hole.

Josh is so nice, so sweet, Tyler thinks as Josh slams his hips against Tyler’s jaw so hard that it feels like he’s being punched in the face. 

Josh cums down Tyler’s throat with a scream. Tyler gags around him as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe. Tyler’s still crying blood and shaking as Josh pulls his spent cock from his mouth.

Tyler coughs white into his palm and then coughs white some more.

He’s kind of hoping he didn’t get cum in his lungs because, what a way to die.

***** ***** *****

 

They stairs leading to the basement of the grocery store are wet.

  
It smells of mold and blood and fungus down here; the scent gets Tyler high.

Josh has a hand twisted in the back of Tyler’s shirt as Tyler leads them down, down, down, much further down than what they expected. It’s too far down to be anything other than a conscious decision. It’s like this for a reason and Tyler is hoping it’s for the reason he suspects.

“Will it hurt?” Josh asks from behind Tyler.

Tyler rakes his fingers down the wall as they venture deeper.

“Yes,” Tyler says. “It’ll be the best thing you’ve ever felt.”

“Will I be different?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like me better if I was different?”

“You’ll be better,” Tyler says. Josh only tightens his grip.

The stairs lead to a large room in complete darkness. Tyler leads them forward, ignoring Josh’s whimpering the whole way. The darker it gets, the clearer Tyler can see with his right eye. It’s wet and irritated, but he can see.

Rusted pipes make up the ceiling and the walls, the seams of each caked with gunk that looks suspiciously like dried blood.

The smell of blood invades every breath, tickling his throat until he’s coughing and when he brings his hand to his mouth, Josh’s cum from last night splatters his fingers. 

“Tyler,” Josh whimpers behind him. Tyler shushes him and continues forward, wiping his wet fingers on his pant leg because this is no time to go chicken shit.

“It’s here,” Tyler says because the air is changing the further he goes forward. Blurry- that name is all he can think about as he steps through puddles and breathes in lungfuls of iron air of rank blood. “It’s here, Josh, it’s here.”

“Tyler, I want to go back.”

“But it’s here!” 

The beginning is here, the end is here, the pain and the suffering and the everything is here. It’s not one of these shadows, it’s the entire darkness that blankets this place, it’s everything about this town.

Tyler stops.

Josh cries.

All it takes is the willingness to see. If only they knew.

Each blink is a dreadful twist in his corneas. It causes his waterline to pinprick with blood that stains his sleeves whenever he wipes his eyes. Above them it towers.

It is large stature, red eyes, a sense of purpose. It is fear. It is enlightenment.

It comes nearer.

“Please, please,” Josh sobs behind Tyler. Tyler can feel him drop to his knees and hide behind his legs, fingers tearing into his waist.

Their hometown is a beast clouded in darkness that is ever powerful and the longer Tyler stares up, the more he understands. His right eye pops like a pimple in its socket but Tyler can still see. 

Tyler can see time and all history and everything that has happened here. He sees more.

Tyler’s teeth go loose in his mouth and his tongue swells until it feels like a balloon in his mouth. His eardrums pop with a flood of warmth down the sides of his head and his nose bleeds in chunks as his left eye bursts.

Tyler feels as though he is being microwaved alive by pure power and it feels amazing.

“Please, please, please!”

Tyler smiles as he looks up. He is changing.

“Tyler, make it stop!”

Tyler is alive. It comes closer, too close. Tyler raises his arms. 

“TYLER!”

Tyler breathes darkness.

Everything is darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Do I not know how to end a story? Oops...


End file.
